


the grey selkie of sule skerry

by tavrin_callas



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Magical Realism, Selkie AU, i'm sorry hendo, this started out as crack and now it's growing arms and legs, total flop is expected
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 08:23:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18545968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tavrin_callas/pseuds/tavrin_callas
Summary: Fresh from a recent breakup, Adam moves from Liverpool to Bournemouth-- only to end up meeting a friendly seal, who turns out to be more than what meets the eye. This is that Robbollana Selkie AU that no one has ever asked for.





	1. Chapter 1

There is an ache in his chest that he could not soothe.

It’s always there, clutching firmly on the strings of his heart, tugging it back when he thinks that he could be fully free. This is what goes on in Adam’s mind as he is seated opposite Clyney and Ingsy in a busy café in Bournemouth one late morning, listening to what they’ve been up to over the last few weeks that he’s not seen them. Adam knits his brows together, feigning concentration as his ears struggle to separate the rise and fall of Ingsy’s excited tones against Clyney’s more laidback ones; amidst the murmuring chatters and clinking of silverware against plates from other patrons in the café. It’s all white noise he couldn’t switch off from. Adam takes a deep breath and tries again. Ingsy’s talking about his new missus and Clyney about his new car. Adam clenches his fists and nods, smiles along all while gritting his teeth; angry at Ingsy and Clyney, angry at himself.

Ingsy tells him he should start doing yoga again, go running, go swimming, stop wallowing. Adam doesn’t need Ingsy to tell him that, because he already knows all that shite from day one. Clyney tells him he’s brave for hauling arse all the way from Liverpool to Bournemouth, to start over. They tell him Hendo’s a fucking bastard for leaving him, but deep-down Adam knows it’s no one’s fault – they’ve just drifted apart because of life, and work, and circumstances; and even if they still love each other, it just hasn’t worked out for the both of them.

At the end of the day it wasn’t Hendo who left– it _was_ Adam, after all.

It was an amicable separation, if not clinical and officious and detached; more like a business merger that has fallen apart than a broken engagement. It was what Adam had thought, logically, at the time. It wasn’t after he drove all the way south after selling his house in Knutsford with all his belongings in a back of a hired Ford Transit, not after he smiled at his mum and dad and telling them he’s fine, not after he crash landed onto the dumpy mattress of his childhood bedroom that he’s realized how he’s lost a massive chunk of his soul and that it would never fully heal again.

Adam doesn’t cry.

He’s way past that.

He doesn’t even remember what Clyney and Ingsy had been saying to him just before he departs for his new home. It used to belong to his grandfather, that Adam’s inherited after the old man’s death.  There are perks for being his granda’s favourite grandchild, Adam thinks, and he smiles wistfully at the memories. The reasonably-sized bungalow is situated just off the coast of Dorset; closer to the quieter inlets of Hengistbury Head to the east than the long, protracted stretches of Poole Bay – and Adam appreciates the location deeply. It’s not too far from civilization, but the cove is quiet enough for him to isolate himself, when he tires of the world and its many never-ending demands. He remembers coming here when he was a young lad, running up and down the wooden pier and swimming in the chilly waters, fighting the waves when the high tide comes. His granda’s old tiny fishing boat is still moored to the pier, although it’s in dire need of repair.

One project at a time, Adam thinks.

He surveys the bungalow from where he stands on the rocks of the jetty, looking up at the white structure standing against the green and gold of Warren Hill and the wide blue skies. It’s a cloudless day and the calm waters are azure-blue, like the colour of Hendo’s eyes. Adam catches himself at that thought before shaking his head and chuckling wryly. He’s not spoken to Hendo in months, he’s stopped looking at social media, he’s moved miles away from Liverpool just to _forget._

And yet it’s in the little things. Hendo is everywhere, no matter how hard Adam tries to distract himself. The way the summer sun is reflected on his hair and turns it golden, the obnoxious way he laughs and Adam hates how it’s still so, so infectious. It reminds him of a seal, and he’s meant it as a compliment. Truly.

It’s the sharp, mournful sound that brings Adam back to the present.

In the first instance he couldn’t tell where it’s coming from, but he twirls around and there are gentle splashes in the water behind where his granda’s boat is moored, before it increasingly becomes more ferocious, like someone’s wrestling underwater. The boat rocks violently against the jetty, as Adam cautiously steps closer towards it. The shrieking noise gets louder and louder.

Adam peeks at the rudder. There is a large, pink plastic bag that has caught on the splintered fiberglass and metal – a grey seal thrashes helplessly as its head is stuck inside it, flailing its flippers feebly. Adam knows he should have called for help. Adam knows he should have contacted the authorities, but there isn’t time for that – not when the seal is clearly suffocated by the plastic and needs to get the bloody thing off _now._ Without thinking, Adam jumps into the water in attempt to get rid of the offending tattered plastic bag with his hands. It takes him a good few minutes at least. The seal is pudgier than he’s expected, and trying to wrestle a panicked wild creature in order to save its life is a greater undertaking than it sounds.

Once the plastic bag is off, Adam is finally able to confront the seal face-to-face – and Adam is no marine biologist, but he knows fear when he sees it. They are both still in the water, by the rudder of the boat, bobbing along gently to the waves. The seal has stopped flapping its flappers frantically, and now staring at Adam with its big, liquid, brown-on-black eyes. Fear turns to confusion, before the seal barks at him – and Adam doesn’t know if it is out of gratitude, or happiness, or just relief. Despite himself Adam starts to laugh. The creature hasn’t attacked him yet, and instead of swimming away it’s looking at Adam with sheer curiosity.

Adam wipes his face, clearing the sting of the saltwater in his eyes, before climbing onto the pier. He’s soaked to the bones, his clothes hanging heavily off his limbs from the all the brine and seaweed. The seal continues to wail forlornly from behind, and to Adam’s surprise, the seal is following him ashore. Adam turns around and kneels to have a closer look at the seal, with its grey fur and awkward flailing, leaving a trail of seawater across the platform as it drags itself clumsily towards Adam. “You’re not injured, are you?” Adam asks, braving himself to pat the seal’s head gently. “Are you lost, little buddy?”

The seal barks again, going ‘phlegggg’ and ‘ooorraaaaa’, like a soppy dog. He rolls around on the dock, panting with his tongue out. Adam tries, he really tries— but fails not to lean down to nuzzle the seal, not when it’s got its nose turned up like that.

It’s the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

 

* * *

 

Adam has been doing research online about seals, and is convinced that the seal following him is a grey seal. _Halichoerus grypus._ Hooked-nosed sea pig. Its fur is darker, and Adam thinks that it must be a male seal. 

He would have thought that it was a one-off thing, but the seal keeps coming back, with its nose poking out of the water and the familiar liquid black eyes, the same distinctive lighter patterns on his pelt – Adam is convinced that the seal is trying to befriend him. “Hello, little guy, it’s you again. My name is Adam,” he says and offers his hand for a handshake before he realizes that the seal has flippers for hands and Adam feels a bit like an idiot. He doesn’t even have time to mope around, and lately he’s been spending time fishing not just recreationally, but because he’s got an extra mouth to feed.

It seems like the seal has a massive appetite for herring and cod, and Adam has buckets and buckets of them just in case the seal ever turns up uninvited. It’s like having a stray cat for a pet, he thinks – except that Adam has a stray seal, and maybe the RSPCA won’t be happy – but at least for now Adam has a squishy friend that doesn’t ask for anything in return except fishes and Adam’s everlasting companionship.

On the day that Adam finally decides to fix his grandad’s boat, the seal is also there, alternating between lazing about in the summer sun and watching Adam intently. “Don’t judge me,” Adam says, as he brings out his toolbox onto the dock. There are cracks in the rudder, and it’s not just a flexible sealant job. There is delamination, and Adam thinks that he will have to drill and fill the area of damage. He sets out to work, but it’s been years since he had done anything like this, his grandad’s the expert and everything Adam does is skew-whiff and off-kilter. His frustration drags on throughout the day – the heat is killing him, he’s sweating like a pig, and nothing he does is going according to plan. He has never felt so useless, and maybe he’s making things worse by carrying on the way he does.

“Oh, fuck!” Adam swears as he accidentally cuts himself on a splintered wood, jumping around the dock in pain. He drops the hacksaw he’s been holding – which then accidentally falls into the water with a tiny ‘plop’ sound, and Adam groans even harder.  He clenches his fist and ends up sitting cross-legged by the end of the pier, pulling over the ends of his t-shirt to put pressure on his bleeding finger— and Adam couldn’t help but let go.

The pressure has been building inside of him for months, and it takes one stupid rudder, one stupid cut, one stupid hacksaw to fall into the water for him to crack. The seal comes up to him now, nuzzling Adam’s shoulder with his nose and makes a mournful whining sound, as if he’s trying to console Adam. The tears are coming hard and fast, every drop creating tiny ripples into the sea, as the sobs begin to quake the entire core of Adam’s body. In his mind he thinks that he couldn’t even do anything right, and the only friend he’s got is a fucking seal. Adam stares at his reflection in the water, and fucking hell, he looks awful. The seal tries to climb onto Adam’s lap, lolling his tongue out, trying to lick Adam’s tears dry.

Adam laughs despite himself. “I’m fine, little guy. I’m fine. I’m okay,” he sniffles. “Don’t worry about me,” he says, as he wipes his tears with the back of his hand. At least the bleeding’s stopped. “I’m just a big crybaby,” he exhales. The seal blinks at him, before nuzzling Adam’s hand and licks at the salty tears that has stained his knuckles. “I’m okay,” he tells the seal as he smooths the fur on top of the seal’s head. “I’m okay,” Adam says, although he doesn’t know whether he’s trying to convince the seal or himself.

 

* * *

 

Adam’s entire body aches throughout the day, from the over-exertion he’s put himself through the morning and afternoon. The summer sun doesn’t last long – by five pm the clouds seem to have picked up, and with them together comes the wind and rain. The bungalow shakes so much, the constant pit-pattering of rain hitting the roof and window as thunder rumbles moodily in the background.

He stays in, misery begetting misery. Rage and grief mixing in some sort if treacherous, poisonous concoction and Adam is drunk on it all. He’s hoped that by the end of today he will have achieved something, but somehow he’s only made the boat worse, and the pulsating ache in his injured finger is a constant reminder that he shouldn’t be left alone. But he _is_ alone.

Adam gets up and goes outside, shaking like the house from the wind, staggering as he walks up to the beach, up onto the pier. The clouds are darker than anything he’s ever seen since he’s got here, the water rougher and higher, the waves lifting and slamming against the rocky coves. The water froths and bubbles before rushing back in a rippling roar. Adam is drawn to the sight, as he walks closer and closer to the dock, watching as the waves ready themselves to be flung forward again. The raindrops fall harder and faster and Adam relishes this moment of being showered clean from the sweeping darkness of his thoughts.

One step and Adam’s foot nearly slips on the wet wooden platform, only managing to throw out his arms in time to steady himself. In this darkness, Adam doesn’t know if the water spraying onto his face comes from the sky or from the oceans, although he doesn’t really care. He feels free, he wants to be part of this tour-de-force, the waves and the rain, the kinetic power that ripples underneath all that current. He wants to float away, he wants to disappear, he wants the oceans to claim him and make him whole again.

Adam leans forward as he grips the metal rails tightly, putting his head high up in the sky as he tastes the rainwater on his lips, mixed with the saltiness of seawater. The waves come close, but not close enough, until one massive wave crashes over Adam. As if the waters have gripped him from shore, making Adam lose his balance. Another wave claims him from the side and lifts him off his feet, his fingers spasming around the slippery rails. He falls right into the water, having being swept off the pier – and there is a plug in his ears as he goes under.

He feels himself dragged back in the current faster than he could swim, and he struggles to come up against anything. Adam is scared, he couldn’t make out a thing in the darkness – and with every time he thinks that his head is above water, another wave pounds into him, knocking him, spinning him around. He is getting dragged further away from the cove, from the light of his bungalow – Adam knows that he is out in the open sea now, vast and open and dark. He tries to fight, arms flailing pathetically against the surging power of the tides. His limbs feel heavy and useless, his ears ringing. Adam gasps for breath, briny water spilling into his mouth.

Adam hopes it’s quick.

Suddenly something knocks into his side, before Adam feels himself getting dragged away, floating. Adam has the littlest clue of what he’s just knocked into, but he reaches out— near-unconsciously, wrapping his arms against whatever it is that he’s stumbled upon. Is it a buoy? Adam doesn’t know, he’s so tired, as he’s sleepily pulled through the tides, head knocking against the waves hitting the opposite direction. His feet touch the ground, face-planted against the sandstones, but breathing is still so painful, even when he’s on land. Whatever’s holding him disappears, and Adam panics for a moment – because he’s not ready, but then he feels something strong takes hold of him, dragging him further up ashore. His vision is fuzzy, rain still pelting down furiously on his skin. Sharp, hard pressures on his chest, cracking his ribcage. Something closing over his mouth, breathing life into him. The pressures on his chest resume, and Adam gasps, coughing up a lungful of brine.  

He finds himself staring into a pair of liquid black eyes, and then everything fades into darkness.  

 

* * *

 

Adam wakes up with a blinding headache. His eyelids feel heavy, a sense of indolence has washed over his entire body. He wishes he doesn’t have to leave the bed, as comfortable as he is tucked into his blankets. He’s caught between the states of drowsiness and consciousness, but the scent of coffee eventually manages to entice him awake.

He scrambles in panic. He doesn’t remember going to bed, in fact he remembers nothing at all, apart from standing on the pier in the terrible storm, losing his balance and falling into the water, how hard it was for him to breathe, choking on brine and hearing nothing but the whooshing sounds of rain and thunder—

Adam tries to get off the bed but falls to the ground – how long has he been confined to his bed? His legs feel weak, and his whole world is spinning around him. He grabs at his bed as he finds his balance, getting up slower this time, and sighs in relief when he realizes that he’s in proper clothes, an old Liverpool t-shirt and shorts – and wonders who’s dressed him while he was rendered unconscious. He makes his way downstairs, in the direction of the kitchen, where he could definitely smell _burnt_ toast and coffee.

There is a stranger in his kitchen – about his height, blissfully humming Vera Lynn’s _White Cliffs of Dover_ as he’s making something – omelets? The man doesn’t even realize that Adam’s behind him.

“Excuse me, but who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my house?”

The man turns around, and Adam’s eyes widen. The stranger’s dark hair is damp as if he just got out of a shower, is wearing Adam’s t-shirt and jeans, and is grinning at Adam while holding a spatula in one hand. “And why are you wearing my shirt? I’m calling the police,” Adam threatens, as he looks around for his phone and realizing that he doesn’t know where it is.

The man’s grin instantaneously fades. “Och, please don’t dae that, I’m just tryin tae help!”

Adam’s stance softens. There’s something familiar about the stranger’s face, about his brown eyes, about his whiskers. He doesn’t want to say it out loud, but he thinks he knows. As mad as it might sound. “You’re him.”

The stranger tilts his head and frowns, surprised. “I dinnae ken you’d guess that quick. Aye, who’d ye ken I am?”

Adam has to pull a chair and sit down to process what’s happening in front of him. “You’re…him. You’re the—,” Adam pauses, resigned to the unexpectedness of it all, and yet – it’s so ridiculous, “—uh, you’re the—seal.”

The stranger’s grin returns sharply to his lips, as he bounces around the kitchen and grabs a few plates and mugs, laying it out on the table to serve Adam, as if he’s lived here for ages, as if Adam’s the guest and the stranger is the host. He pours steaming hot coffee into Adam’s mug, toast and a block of butter, before plating the omelet last. “Things have really changed around here,” the stranger says. “I dinnae realize everything’s electric now, the stove an’ all,” he chatters excitedly. “Burnt my fingers, see?” he holds up his hands. Adam could see the red marks on the tips of his fingers, that will really sting later, he thinks. “The last time I was on land, overworlders still use fire on their stoves. Took a while for me tae figure out how tae work out how tae use yer stove. At least I can still work the toaster. Really proud of mysel’ there.”

Adam watches the stranger talk, transfixed, and he _really_ could talk for the whole of Scotland. His gaze flickers briefly to the stove behind the stranger’s head, it’s a recent-ish AGA hotplate cooker model – where has this man really come from?

“Are you really the seal?”

“Selkie,” the stranger says, before offering his hand to Adam for a handshake. Adam merely stares at the stranger’s hand in confusion.

“Humans still shake hands, aye? You haven’t changed the way of greeting other people?”

“Did you just say selkie?”

The stranger retracts his hand when it’s clear that Adam is not returning the handshake. “I’m not even offended, pal,” he pulls a face but smiles again within a split second. “Aye, selkie. Ye ken what selkies are?”

“If you are—the same seal, who’s somehow turned into this strange man in front of me, then what happened on the first day I met you? When you were a seal?”

“Adam, you saved my life. From that plastic bag that’s stuck onto your granda’s boat. Aye, you told me and I remembered. I’m not an eejit.”

“You know my name.”

“Aye, ‘cause you’ve told me,” the seal-man says, as if Adam’s the idiot. “Hello, my name’s Adam,” the man tries to imitate Adam’s English accent, but fails miserably. “I cannae dae an English accent, my tongue’s tae thick for tha’,” he shrugs apologetically. “Never got the chance tae thank ye for savin’ my life, but— I ‘hink we’re even now. So thank you, Adam,” the seal-man purses his lips and blinks, before gesturing that it’s time for him to leave.

Adam reaches out and gently grabs at the seal-man’s arm. “I’m sorry— I’m just trying to process all of this in my head. This—isn’t a prank, is it?”

The seal-man knits his brows together and blinks some more. “Adam, why would I want tae prank ye?”

“I don’t know— a massive joke? Ingsy and Clyney’s capable of something like this,” Adam says, although he’s never told them about the seal. The only one friend that he could easily open up to without expecting anything in return but a comforting hand. Or comforting flipper. A listening ear. That was meant as a joke, clearly. Adam knows that seals are earless.

“Adam—,” the seal-man begins, before Adam cuts him off. “Where are my manners? You know my name and I don’t even know yours.”

The seal-man offers his hand again, for another handshake. “Andrew,” he says, “—after the patron saint of Scotland,” he explains enthusiastically, “—but you can call me Andy.”

This time, Adam doesn’t hesitate. He returns the handshake and is surprised at the strength of Andy’s grip. “Andy,” Adam repeats the name, measuring its weight on the tip of his tongue. “Funny that it was one of the names that I’d had in mind for you.”

“What other names do you have in mind?”

“Finn?” Adam offers.

Andy rubs his jaw and appears to give this some thought. “Hmm, decent,” he admits. “Finfolk and selkies aren’t the same, but close enough,” he grins. “You’ve got so much more to find out about me,” he rubs his hands together gleefully. “But before that, eat yer brekkie, ye wee human. I dinnae burn my fingers on the stove for nuhin'.”

Adam’s stomach grumbles. He couldn’t agree more.

 

* * *

 

Over breakfast, Adam asks Andy about what happened on the night he went on the pier. “I was underwater,” Andy tells him, “—minding my own business. Sheltering myself from the thunderstorm, and then I heard a terrible sound. A loud splash, and it was you. I didn’t know you were drowning at first – you looked like you were floating, swimming away, but it couldn’t be right. It didn’t look right, it didn’t feel right. I swam closer and I realized that you’d just—given up. So I dragged you all the way up to the shore, but you’re a heavy man. I had to switch to this form to get you ashore.”

“Wait, did you bring me back from the dead?”

“I’ve seen people revive the dead when they drown. I just did what they did. Living between the sea and land, you get to see and learn many things.”

Adam tries to imagine it – the dark furred seal with its rotund belly and patterned whorls on its pelt, trying to drag Adam all the way inland with those flippers, before giving up. He doesn’t know much about selkies, but he thinks he knows enough. About their sealskin and how they have to guard it, that they can’t return to sea without it. Adam still has trouble believing that beneath all that blubber, there’s Andy— graceless Andy, but still so slender and lithe and wild and untamed, with those dark, dark eyes that glint mischievously in the glimmering sunlight. “You told me you’ve been ashore before—when was the last time you were ashore?”

“Hmm,” Andy ponders as he munches on tuna flakes, eating it straight out from the can, “—it must have been after the war.”

“Which war?”

“You humans call it The Second World War,” Andy replies unflappably. Adam spits his coffee out at the answer, earning a massive laughter from Andy, the fucking scoundrel. “How _old_ are you?”

“ _Very_ old,” Andy smirks. “We live for hundreds of years, us selkie-folk,” he declares proudly. “And I’ve been around these parts for at least fifty years,” he tells Adam, before narrowing his eyes and scrunches his nose at Adam. “Yer not the old man who used to live here.”

“That was my granddad. He’s dead.”

“Ah, that explains it. Why he doesn’t come out here anymore,” Andy says, before staring keenly at Adam, as if he’s trying to study every line and every pore on Adam’s face. “Yer his grandson?”

Adam returns the look with a similarly wary expression. “Yeah….why?”

“Ye dinnae ken,” Andy says, looking at Adam with his bright eyes, as if fascinated by an unexpected news that no one’s bothered to tell Adam about.

“Don’t know…about what?”

Andy shakes his head and waves it off, like it was just a useless gossip that he’s heard through the tides. “Naw, never mind. It’s no’ important.”

Adam doesn’t believe him, but decides not to push the subject further. He has other more important questions of his own. “If you’re really a selkie, where did you keep your pelt?”

“Now I cannae tell ye that, can I?”

“Sorry,” Adam says, “—but it really feels like you’re keeping a lot of secrets from me. It’s kinda unfair.”

Andy stops scraping the bottom of his tuna can with his spoon and pauses at the fervour in Adam’s tone. “I’ll tell ye the real reason why I came ashore,” he sighs, before grabbing another tuna can and tears the lid open with one swift movement. “I honestly thought that you called for me.”

“What?” Adam nearly shrieks. “What makes you think that?”

“You cried seven tears into the sea that morning – you were fixing the rudder on your granda’s boat, and then you cut yourself, and then you cried— I counted every drop.”

Adam stares at Andy helplessly. “I didn’t mean to—it was—” he stutters, but Andy shrugs and cuts him off. “A mistake? Well, I’m here now anyway. I do have one more question for you, though, and I apologize if I’m being blunt.”

“What is it?”

“Were ye tryin tae off yersel that night, when you went out in the thunderstorm?”

Adam opens his mouth to deny it, to say that Andy’s out of his mind, but Andy’s gaze is so sharp that it could cut through him, as if Andy could see what he’s thinking, how he’s feeling. “A part of me probably didn’t care if I’d lived or died,” Adam says, and it feels like a heavy burden has been lifted off his chest just by saying those words out loud. Maybe he needs someone to be blunt with him, to stop skirting around the subject, stop treating him like a precious porcelain, stop walking on eggshells. Maybe this _entire_ thing— maybe it was Adam’s unconscious desire, Adam’s version of ‘a cry for help’. He just didn’t expect the help to be in the form of _Andy the Selkie._

“How about now?” Andy asks. “How does it feel like to be alive?” He’s stopped munching on his tuna, and is staring up at Adam with his wide, intrepid eyes instead.

“I want to live,” Adam admits. “I just need to re-learn how to do it. From scratch,” he says, before sipping on his now lukewarm coffee. “How long are you planning to stay?” he asks Andy, trying to change the subject.

“As long as it takes.”

Adam raises a quizzical eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

Andy’s grin is crooked, secretive. “As long as it takes,” he says.

 

* * *

 

Over the next few days, Adam spends his time online researching selkies, and visits the local library just to read up on different legends and folklores. Andy tags along with Adam to the library and chuckles at the things that has been written about his kin. He stops munching on the tuna baguette that Adam’s bought him from Greggs when Adam asks him where he’s actually from.

“Scotland,” Andy blinks rapidly, before continuing to munch on the baguette. Adam throws him a serviette in retaliation. “You’ve got mayo all over your mouth, you heathen. I _know_ you’re from Scotland,” Adam says, “—anyone who isn’t hearing-impaired will know that you’re from Scotland, what with your thick accent.” Adam doesn’t miss the little smirk that curves up Andy’s lips, or the little chuckle-cough that Andy does when he’s amused.  He leans forward and points to his phone, watching Andy’s gaze flicker between his baguette and Adam’s phone screen. “There are many legends, Orcadian, Hebridean – where in Scotland are you _actually_ from?”

Andy swallows a massive gulp of water and wipes his mouth with Adam’s serviette, before frowning at the phone screen and scrolls further down the page with his thumb. Adam watches this movement in fascination – Andy has only been on land for a few days and yet he’s catching on fast, absorbing technological knowledge like it’s nobody’s business. Only yesterday Andy was struggling to work the washing machine, and had sat down in front of the round washing machine window for at least half an hour, watching the soap suds and clothes twirling interminably in the drum before he got bored. He had ended up fiddling with the telly remote control instead – only to get hooked on _Game of Thrones._

Andy finally finds the paragraph that he’s looking for, because he’s handing the phone back to Adam and nudges him to look.

Adam peers at what he’s being shown.

“The Grey Selkie of Sule Skerry?” Adam reads skeptically. “ _You’re_ the Grey Selkie of Sule Skerry? But it says here the selkie and his son was harpooned to death.”

And to think that only a few hours ago Adam knew next to nothing but the basics about selkies. He knows the story now – a land woman had a tryst with a selkie and borne him a son, only to be left alone to look after the child for seven years until the selkie took her child away. She remarried another man, who then killed the grey seal and his son, not knowing that they were selkies and that the pup was his wife’s son. Tragic.

But it was one of the more famous tales about male selkies, and apparently male selkies are meant to be _handsome_ in their human forms – changing only to prey and lure human women into marrying them. With this knowledge in mind, Adam silently glances at Andy and thinks – he’s _not_ handsome— average, at best? But there’s a certain charm to Andy that makes him affable.

“Well, I am _a_ grey selkie from Sule Skerry, but I’m not _the_ grey selkie of Sule Skerry. He’s our king, and our kin pledged to serve the selkie king, protect his descendants and defend his kingdom. But he’s been killed, and so was the little selkie prince. What’s left of us dispersed and travelled to other coasts. Now I’m the last of our kind, that I know of anyway. Hence why you’ve found me lurking off Poole Bay. Only I didn’t expect you to call me ashore, obviously.”

“Does he have any descendants left?” Adam asks, “—if you’ve pledged to protect his descendants? Or are you just…freewheeling it?”

“Even if he has, it’s been hundreds of years. Them descendants would be independent by now; they don’t need our protection,” Andy says, without tearing his gaze away from Adam’s for even one second. It lasts a while, and for a moment Adam forgets how to breathe, until Andy blinks first. “Unless if they ask, of course,” Andy says, a tiny smile hidden underneath that grim line of his lips. Adam is about to ask what that means, before his phone rings.

_Ingsy._

“Adz, you gotta come ‘ere quick. It’s an emergency.”

 

* * *

 

It turns out that it’s Ingsy’s nephew birthday party, and the magician who was supposed to come and perform has bailed at the last minute. Now Ingsy has a room full of unhappy, whining 7-year-olds who are hungry for cake but also deprived of entertainment.

“ _This_ is your fucking emergency,” Adam says through gritted teeth, as the adults are huddled in the kitchen, hiding from the kids in the living room. “I drove past a fucking red light to get here, you fucking idiot!”

“Please, Adz. You’re the most talented person I know. Do some football tricks, I know you used to be good at that?”

Adam groans inwardly. “It—was—just—the—one—trick, Ingsy. I can’t keep them entertained for 30 minutes? Why can’t you put on _Frozen_ or _Paw Patrol_ or something on the telly?”

The serious conversation is interrupted by Andy’s loud munching of crisps, and he slows down only when Ingsy points at him and asks Adam, “Who’s this?”

“Andy,” he flicks a fake-salute with two fingers. “Nice to meet ye. I’ve been wondering, whose guitar is this?” he points to a guitar resting against the wall. Ingsy barely manages to say “It’s mine,” before Andy picks it up and strums a chord.  It makes a strange sound and Andy pulls an unimpressed face. “It’s out of tune, pal.”

“I was thinking of playing,” Ingsy stammers, “—but I’m not good enough and I’ve not touched that in ages.”

“Give me five minutes,” Andy clicks his tongue, before twisting the tuning pegs and strumming, humming along to a tune that Adam’s not familiar with.

Ingsy nudges Adam in confusion. “Who’s this bloke again?”

Adam shrugs. “Andy,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, because to say anything more would probably cause further riot in this household.

And then, it’s showtime.

Adam and Ingsy watch from the sidelines in nervous anticipation. Adam has no idea what Andy is going to do, and Ingsy is looking at Adam and Andy in fear that this is going to go spectacularly wrong. In all honesty, neither Ingsy nor Adam know Andy well enough to trust him, but maybe Andy has nothing to lose. He doesn’t know these kids either, and at least he’s got enough confidence to help out. That’s better than nothing.

Andy slings the guitar over his shoulder, before clearing his throat. “Hullo, bairns. How ye daein?”

Silence.

“My name’s Andy and this is my magical guitar…stick,” he begins, “—and I hope you’ll like this song.”

Adam could barely watch through his fingers.

When Andy starts opening his mouth, Adam doesn’t quite know what to make of… _everything._

“Everybody wees the bed— it’s somethin’ that we do,” Andy sings as the children look on in awe (while Ingsy and Adam stare in horror).

_Where is he going with this?_

“I for instance wee’d the bed— ‘til I was twenty-two.”

_Huh._

Despite the subject matter, the kids love Andy. He doesn’t look like it, but the kids are looking at him as if he’s a big, soft, warm teddy bear – and kids’ birthday party performer Andy, in his (Adam’s) crumpled plaid shirt that Adam’s not worn in years, with goofy songs and Ingsy’s guitar is too different from Scottish wildling, selkie-folk Andy that Adam has begun to know over the last few days. But maybe they’re one and the same.

Andy starts serenading the kids about stinky feet and nose-picking, but at this point Adam doesn’t even have the decency of being perturbed. At one-point Andy does start singing in Gaelic, before switching to _Sweet Caroline_ , and then suddenly singing child ballads about selkies and fae-folk. Adam glances in panic at Ingsy, but he’s too busy recording the show on his phone to even register what Andy is really doing. He is practically revealing himself, and yet no one notices or cares. The snake-charmer that he is, maybe there is a lot of magic imbued in Andy, after all. The kids’ parents are certainly smiling and nodding and laughing as they watch their children clapping along to Andy’s tunes – and Adam is even more impressed because he knows that Andy has only just made up the songs on the spot.

“You peed the bed until you were twenty-two?” Adam teases when Andy stops for a break.

“It’s the only ‘hing that rhymes, ken,” Andy replies with a shrug, before breaking into a small giggle. Adam chuckles too, and the smile must have been plastered so widely on his face that it’s too out of character, because Ingsy then gives him an odd look. “Thank you, Andy – you’re a life saviour,” Ingsy says, and he couldn’t convey his gratitude even more, because he’s pulled Andy into an impromptu bear hug that nearly chokes the life out of the selkie. Adam couldn’t help but mutter ‘he’s a literal life saviour’ under his breath, but maybe it’s something that should be kept between Andy and himself.

Ingsy tries to ask more questions about Andy and Adam, how long they’ve known each other, but Andy remains as cryptic as ever – and Ingsy probably doesn’t really believe Adam when he tells him that ‘he’s just a friend’. Adam knows how this may come across to Ingsy – a random man who constantly tags along with Adam, everywhere he goes – in Ingsy’s mind Adam’s probably has moved on from Hendo, and probably it’s a good thing.

Even when it’s not even close to the actual truth.

“So, are you coming to Mo and Dejan’s wedding too, then?” Ingsy asks Andy, who looks up at Adam in confusion.

“No, he’s not,” Adam intervenes. “He doesn’t know Mo or Dej, why would he come?”

Ingsy’s gaze travels between Adam and Andy, brain whirring into plotting action – but Adam already knows that whatever Ingsy’s planning won’t bode well. “Are you scared that Hendo might be there and find out?” Ingsy asks, always three steps ahead and totally in the wrong direction.

Adam’s ears prick. “Find out about what?”

“About you two,” Ingsy replies conspiratorially.

Andy chokes on the birthday cake he’s been picking at, while Adam holds up his hands in sheer alarm. “Ingsy, you’re very kind, but you’re way ahead of yourself,” Adam laughs nervously. “There’s nothing between me and Andy,” he gestures, as Andy munches enthusiastically on the honey sriracha salmon bites that he’s just found on the other end of the buffet table. “Just air.” Adam says. “I mean, look at him. He’s not even my type.”

“Sure,” Ingsy says, although judging from his expression Adam knows he’s not convinced. “Whatever makes you happy, Adz,” Ingsy adds, before patting Adam’s shoulder and sighs.

Adam tries not to read into whatever Ingsy’s implying, but finds that it’s a near-impossible feat.

 

* * *

 

The car journey home is silent. It isn’t until they reach home that Adam has the courage to ask Andy, “Are you alright with being away on land this long?”

“Eh, I’m used tae it,” Andy smiles carelessly, before his expression turns uncharacteristically somber. “Tell me about this…Hendo…human-person-thing that you keep talkin’ about. You’ve been talking about him even before I came on shore, and Ingsy brought him up again today. What happened?”

“We were together. We were thinking about getting married, having kids. And then…work happened, life happened, and we just…grew apart,” Adam exhales sharply. There’s no sorrow, only numbness in his words. “We were living together but we weren’t even talking to each other anymore. But he’s not a bad man.”

Andy knits his brows together, frowning. “Why’re ye defending him?”

“I’m not. It’s no one’s fault, it’s both our faults,” Adam explains. “It just wasn’t working anymore,” he sighs, before rubbing his eyes tiredly.

Andy hesitantly steps closer towards Adam, and reaches out tentatively, before placing his hand on Adam’s shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. When he’s sure that Adam isn’t going to push him away, he kneels in front of Adam and asks, “What’s wrong?”

Adam shakes his head. “It’s Mo and Dejan’s wedding. They’re my close friends, we’re all mutual friends, but it’s in Liverpool.”

“Where Hendo is,” Andy surmises. “D’ye want me tae go wi’ ye?”

“I love how you just say his name like that like you know him,” Adam chuckles wryly.

Andy grins unapologetically. “I feel like I ken him already from what ye and Ingsy’s been sayin’ about the lad,” he says. “I don’t mind goin’ wi’ ye tae Liverpool, ye ken.”

“I’ll think about it,” Adam smiles. “On the other hand, I didn’t know how much you love cake. I think you ate half of poor Ingsy’s nephew’s birthday cake all by yourself.”

Andy’s eyes light up in sheer joy. “I _love_ cakes! I mean, I don’t ken why I’m all very squidgy in my seal form, but I cannae put on weight on land. It’s like everything I ate, the energy gets burnt off so quickly.”

Adam has a feeling that it’s because Andy’s so bouncy and needs extra energy to sustain his motormouth and hyperactiveness, but he keeps this thought to himself.

“How do you feel about peach tarts?” Adam asks, instead.

 

* * *

tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you recognize the similarity between Andy the Selkie and Andy Dwyer, that's because I did reference a whole scene from Parks and Rec. In my head Andy is a combination of Andy Dwyer, Tigger, and Hobbes from Calvin and Hobbes (hence his obsession with tuna, and not just because he's a selkie). 
> 
> I also might have a Spotify playlist for this fic, so keep your eyes peeled for that. I'm not sure if anyone wants to read a Robbollana fic since it's...unheard of. I promised myself it will be a short fic, but I'm apparently incapable of writing anything less than 10k. Any mistakes are mine since this is totally unbeta'ed and if I don't write/publish this now I won't have time to do it later. 
> 
> If you've come this far, well done and thank you, I guess?


	2. Chapter 2

They spend their weeks circling each other, swimming in the warm waters of the cove and fishing by the docks during the day. He makes fun of Andy and his tendency to get sunburnt like a marshmallow, who in turns retaliates by making large splashes in the water, before it ends up as a grappling match to dunk each other. Andy is clearly the better swimmer, graceful and lithe and athletic in the sea, although Adam appreciates Andy’s form when he sprints an entire 70-yard, just to prove a point that he could run as fast as he could swim.

Adam thinks that he could enjoy this summer yet, bathing in sweet indolence, in the company of someone who is blissfully unaware of the world’s miseries – or is absolutely in tune with them but chooses not to immerse himself in it. Andy is young, in selkie years—but he’s known the way of the world and is wiser than Adam initially gave him credit for. He’s innocent and mischievous, could be attentive and scatterbrained at any given moment, staring at something new in absolute wonderment and consternation, before jumping off to do something completely different in the next minute. Andy helps Adam with the fixing the boat, and Adam is impressed by how much knowledge Andy has about it. Andy tells him that the last time he was on land, he had spent years in the Merchant Navy, and he knows a thing or two about rudders and keels and sculls.  In a mere week the boat is ready to set sail again, as good as new. When Andy asks him where he would like to sail to, Adam has said that he’d like to see Sule Skerry. Andy had fallen silent then, furrows in his inquisitive brows, before quietly saying, “I’ll take ye there.”

Andy sings songs in Scottish Gaelic while Adam bakes, as Andy helpfully kneads the dough for the tarts and laughs heartily when flour dust gets caught in Adam’s hair. Adam doesn’t fail to notice how Andy throws back his head when he laughs, almost like Hendo— but not quite, and is pleasantly surprised when he realizes that the thought doesn’t even hurt him anymore. He doesn’t miss the way Andy freezes when Adam carelessly reaches over to brush away the flour dust on Andy’s sharp cheekbones, as if the touch of another human being on his skin is alien to him. He has to bite the insides of his mouth to stop himself from grinning when Andy tastes his peach tarts for the first time— watching how Andy’s eyes light up as he bites on the crunch of the pastry, contrasting against the sudden burst of peaches and dusted sugar on his tongue. Adam plays it cool when Andy sings endless praises on how good they are, and for a whole week it’s as if Andy has forfeited his supply of tuna for the sake of having more of Adam’s peach tarts and swiss rolls. When there are too many peach tarts for the both of them, Andy and Adam bring them around to Clyney and Ingsy’s, and Adam is amazed at how quickly Andy gets along with the both of them. 

It’s a testament to Andy’s character that he’s able to masterfully tread the waters, reading the subtle differences in interacting with Ingsy and Clyney, in no time at all. Adam watches their banter and it feels like Andy’s known them for a long time, as if they are just old friends who are having a catchup in a pub. Andy’s wit matches that of Ingsy’s, and he’s even able to coax Clyney out of his shell, as he’s usually less talkative when meeting new people – and _yet._ They’re all laughing and joking together, and for the first time in ages Adam really feels that he’s come _home._

In truth, Adam’s heart does feel lighter. It’s been a long time since he feels content, and for once in his life, he thinks that he could be carefree without overthinking about the repercussions. He’s started to hum silly love songs again while he’s baking, and doesn’t even stop humming when he catches himself doing it. In fact, he merely chuckles to himself and starts again. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he actually enjoys spending time with Ingsy and Clyney, now.

For the longest time he’s felt that he couldn’t fit in – not while he was sinking deep into depression after Hendo, and the death of his granddad, and not being able to perform well at work. He’d try to meet people regularly— and spends just enough time with them to fill his socializing quota, and usually he’s contented by that. He has friends and family, but rarely he tells them how he really feels – probably because he doesn’t know it himself. He’s figured that everyone else has their own problems, and his worries and fears were too insignificant to be considered important. He couldn’t break through the wall of introversion that he’s built around himself, and even when he tried, he’d regress back into his comfort zone.

Until Andy.

Adam’s flying high now, and he resents the fact that he will fall again someday. _This will probably hurt later_ , he thinks. But until then, he’s going to ride the waves and see how far it takes him. It’ll probably not last long, whatever this is. Andy will return to sea, and Adam will have to learn how to do this again on his own.

 _As long as it takes,_ Andy had said.

Adam wonders if this was what he’d meant.

Clyney is less forward than Ingsy, but even he’s curious about the nature of Andy’s relationship with Adam, and couldn’t move beyond ‘Andy is Adam’s rebound’ as a reason for Adam keeping Andy at his place. Ingsy keeps pointing out that Andy keeps wearing Adam’s old clothes— even if they’re the same size, Adam couldn’t help but think that they still look baggy on Andy’s wiry frame.

He feels as though he’s spent too much time with Andy; too many interactions that feel _intimate_ — and he’s worried that he’s delved far in too deep; lost in the false sense of Andy’s security. They do silly things like watching _Game of Thrones_ and singing and baking and playing Fifa together. Maybe Andy is some kind of a rebound, but at the same time Adam delights in being able to do things together with Andy that he wasn’t able to do with Hendo before. The worst part of spending time with other people is the intervals of silence – but where Adam used to loath having periods of awkward silences in conversations, it comes naturally with Andy, and it strikes him how much he doesn’t mind it. It reminds him of Hendo, how Adam used to be able to do it with him too, before it turned sour and cold and unbearable. In the past, it was Adam who had to make the first move. But this now, this is different. He feels comfortable now, without having the constant pressure of making small talk.

Sometimes Adam wonders if Andy is really just another one of the male selkies he’s read up on – the ones who only come up to land to seduce humans and take advantage of them— and if this entire thing is one long con that Adam’s been tricked into. He couldn’t help but think that he’s the one taking advantage of Andy’s presence, right here, right now.

If he were to find out where Andy’s sealskin is…would he hide it and keep Andy with him on land forever?

Adam takes a furtive glance at Andy, who is now busy setting up the telly for an impromptu _Game of Thrones_ viewing night – and finds himself blushing – before averting his gaze away guiltily. He fiddles with the ends of his hoodie strings and focuses on the telly instead of the man crouching in front of it – and convinces himself that Andy is only a dumb selkie who happens to be enthusiastic about befriending everybody during his limited time on land, and not because Adam is special in any way. Because Adam has always believed that he is mediocre (at best) at everything, and terrible at maintaining friendships on his own.

The next morning, Adam wakes up to the smell of coffee and sausages and eggs, finding Andy in the kitchen, already plating the dishes to serve Adam breakfast. He’s even poured coffee into Adam’s favourite peach-coloured mug, the one that says ‘Good Vibes Only’, and something inside Adam’s heart melts slightly at the gesture.

“I was just about tae wake ye up,” Andy says, bright as a button, and Adam doesn’t realize how disgusting of a morning person Andy is until this moment. “Do you always do this when you’re in your human form? Like, every morning?” Adam asks, yawning as he scratches the back of his head.

“I’ll let ye intae a secret,” Andy bends and half-whispers into Adam’s ear.

“What?” Adam slaps Andy away, scratches at his ear from the prickly sensation of Andy’s warm breath against it.

“I’m no' even a remotely morning person!” Andy shrieks, as he scurries away to evade from being punched by Adam. “I usually dae this tae impress the lonely, female-humans who are waiting for their fishermen husbands tae come back tae shore,” he explains, now standing safely at the opposite end of the able, staring down smugly at Adam. “Your people call them girlfriends, now.”

“Hmm,” Adam pauses, connecting the dots together. “Since when did _I_ become _your_ girlfriend?” he asks, with a deadpan expression.

“Aha, but yer _not_ my girlfriend,” Andy says, rolling his ‘r’ in ‘girlfriend’ in a quintessentially Andy way, with that strong Scottish accent that Adam’s unexpectedly become fond of.

“Correct,” Adam nods. “That’s an astute observation, Andy. Well done,” he comments sardonically.

“Dinnae mean tha’ I cannae use the same tactic tae impress ye.”

Adam rolls his eyes. “That is the worst pick-up line ever.” A tiny pause, before he asks, “Does it _actually_ work? Helping to make breakfast?”

Andy nods self-assuredly. “Aye, _actually_.”

“Did you sing Gaelic songs and help them bake peach tarts as well?” Adam raises an eyebrow.

“Naw, that’s just for you,” Andy replies, beaming proudly like a drop of Scottish sunshine.  

Adam tries, but he couldn’t suppress the smile that’s threatening to show on his face.  

“Nice to know.”

 

* * *

 

It isn’t until his mother’s sudden appearance in his home, just after Adam and Andy return from a morning swim, which sobers his perception about his life—and _Andy._ She must have had an extra key, and Adam had gone into the shower first, not even realizing that she’s in the house. He finds Andy chatting excitedly to his mum over a pot of tea, knowing full well how Andy doesn’t even drink tea.

“Adam,” Sharon begins, “—you didn’t even tell me that Andy’s staying with you!” she says, when Adam pads into the kitchen warily, frowning at Andy who remains as lackadaisical as ever, leaning back into his chair unperturbed by the potential disaster that could occur in the next few minutes if they don’t get their stories straight.  

“Yeah, about that,” Adam says, as he takes a seat at the counter, feigning calmness when in truth his brain is searching frantically for a tangible excuse to give his mum.

“I was coming to see if you needed any help with cleaning up and cooking, but it looks like you’re doing well. The fridge’s stocked up, you even baked,” Sharon smiles proudly. Beside her, Andy sips at his tea quietly, perhaps trying to hide his own sly grin, the cheeky fucker.

“About that as well…” Adam stammers, although he has virtually _nothing_ to fill the end of the sentence.

“Adam’s been really kind tae me. He saved my life when I drowned,” Andy says with a certain kind of earnestness Adam’s never felt before, “—and I’m daein every’hin in my power tae repay him,” he continues, with an unexpected calmness in his voice.

“And you didn’t even tell me this!” Sharon says to Adam, who is surprised that Andy’s decided to tell a partially true story of how Adam first met Andy – albeit in his seal form. Andy artfully changes the subject to Adam’s grandfather, where Adam learns for the first time that his great-grandmother – _his grandfather’s mother_ — apparently she had first met her husband when she had drowned off the coast of Bournemouth, only to be saved by Adam’s great-grandfather and fell in love and got married.

Andy had listened to this tale from Sharon with wide-eyed curiosity, and Adam looks away when Andy glances at Adam for a reaction. He doesn’t give Andy the satisfaction of receiving any.

When Sharon leaves, Adam asks Andy what they’ve been talking about before he came downstairs. Andy explains that they had been talking about gardening, the different kinds of fishes around the coast of Bournemouth, _Loose Women_ …and the history of Freemasons.

“She’s worried about you,” Andy says, again with a serious tone that he rarely ever uses, not with Adam, not like this.

“I think she noticed that you’re wearing my shirt.”

Andy looks down and gasps. “Ah.”

“She has a reason to be worried,” Adam says, “—she probably thinks that you and I— that we’re…”

“Together?”

Adam nods wearily. “She was worried about me after I broke up with Hendo, but I think she’s also concerned that we’re moving too quickly in our ‘relationship’,” he says, making air-quotes at the word _relationship._

Andy gapes, opening his mouth to say something before he stops himself. “How’d ye ken all this?”

Adam shows the texts that he’s received from Ingsy after his mum left— apparently Ingsy couldn’t keep his mouth shut and had told Sharon all about the mysterious Scotsman who’s helped Adam fix his granddad’s boat, fix the bungalow, fix his _life._

“So she came already knowing I was gonnae be here,” Andy hums absentmindedly.

“I think that mum’s about ready to adopt you,” Adam chuckles. “But then she’s always ready to adopt anyone. Even Hen—,” Adam begins, before he catches himself and stops before he could say Hendo’s name.

Andy clenches his jaw. “You miss him,” he says accusatorily.

“I don’t, actually,” Adam says, because it’s the truth. He hasn’t thought about Hendo in a long, long time. And even now, as he’s talking about Hendo – there’s no sorrow there, but it’s not exactly numbness, either. It’s _acceptance._ “I’ve got you to thank, I suppose,” Adam adds quietly, without quite looking at Andy in the eyes.

“I’m glad,” Andy says, as he stretches languidly in the sun, like a feline. “I just wanted you to be happy,” he adds, smiling as the sunlight washes over his face. In this light, his brown eyes turn green-gold like a bewitching kaleidoscope, and Adam tries his best not to stare. “But why do they _all_ think that we’re together?”

“Are you offended by that idea?”

“Naw, I’m just—,” Andy pauses, scratching the back of his head, making his hair stick up in opposite directions, “I ‘hink they really want ye tae be happy too, Adam.”

“Yeah, well,” Adam snorts. “You’re a pain in the neck with all your chattering so I don’t even know where they got that idea from.”

“Aye, but I’m _yer_  pain in the neck.”

Adam doesn’t know how to reply to that – not when Andy’s looking at him with those brown puppy-eyed stare, so he diverts the attention to his phone, instead. “I also got a text from Dejan. His wedding’s at the end of the month and guess what, he’s asking about you too.”

“Ingsy really couldnae keep his mouth shut. I thought I was the only one who couldnae dae that,” Andy jokes, before reading the text on Adam’s phone and frowns. “He says he wants tae put my name on the card for the wedding dinner table next tae yours,” he reads, before looking up at Adam. “I dinnae realize tha' I’ve been invited.”

“I think you were invited the moment Ingsy saw you singing about _peeing_ at his nephew’s birthday party, Andy,” Adam jokes.

Andy hands him the phone and says without batting an eyelash, “Andrew Robertson.”

Adam does a double take as he realizes what Andy’s just said. “Is that your full name?”

“Aye,” Andy says in affirmation, before the curves of his lips lift slowly upwards; a secret smile only for Adam. He feels as though time has stopped for him there and then, when Andy tilts his head to look at Adam in fascination – Adam thinks that it’s his world that has been tilted upwards and downwards, backwards and forwards since Andy’s entrance into his life, and yet Andy’s the one who’s stabilized him— the mere paradox of it sends his heartrate skyrocketing illogically upwards.  

He realizes that the freckles on Andy’s cheeks correlates to the lighter patches on his old seal-face, and although the human version of Andy is all sharp jutting bones and sinewy all over, there are so many soft things about him, from the way he tugs at the overly long sleeves of Adam’s t-shirts that he’s wearing, to the way his legs keep fidgeting when he’s sitting still, to the way Andy’s currently gazing up at Adam—with those devilish, leviathan eyes.

“What?” Andy asks, grinning as he knits his brows together, “Why’re ye lookin’ at me like that?”

“Nothing,” Adam says, clearing his throat. “Um, I was just thinking, then— about this invitation. Are you coming with me?”

“D’ye want me tae?” Andy asks.  

“I wouldn’t know how to even—I mean, they all think that somehow you’re my new boyfriend,” Adam replies.

Andy raises a sharp eyebrow. “If ye dinnae want me tae come to yer friends’ wedding ‘cause they’ll ‘hink that I’m your boyfriend, then they’d have already won.”

Adam couldn’t believe what he’s hearing. “We haven’t even decided how we’re going to play this. And Hendo _will_ be there. Are we _actually_ going to pretend that we’re together?”

“People have already assumed anyway,” Andy shrugs, blowing raspberries before giving Adam a worried look. “But I’m no’ gonnae dae it if ye dinnae want tae. This is about you,” he says, his tone stern and full of concern at the same time.

Adam steels himself and thinks that he’s come this far. What’s the worst that could happen? The rumour mill has propelled forward, far beyond their control, and Adam’s too tired to deny them anymore, even when they’re _wrong._ He purses his lips and gives the wild idea one last thought, before standing by his resolve. “Let’s give them something to talk about,” he tells Andy.

The smile on Andy’s face is soft— there’s no mischief or roguishness in his eyes, only a pure desire to help. “Aye, I can dae that for ye,” he says, like a binding promise.  

 

* * *

 

The big day comes and Adam drives up all the way to Liverpool, Andy in tow. Mo and Dejan have their wedding reception at the Liverpool Hilton, just opposite Albert Dock— and has even booked a room for Andy and Adam to stay and rest, before the dinner reception that night. Throughout the journey, Andy’s become more serious in his overall manner, despite his endless string of humour, as he’s promised Adam that he would behave and make Adam proud. Andy’s even bought a new shirt and suit and tie, and shined his brogues. He’s gone for a haircut and gelled them upwards instead of his usual floppy fringe, explaining to Adam that he wants to look his best at Mo and Dejan’s wedding. “I dinnae want tae look like a fish out of water at the wedding, what with your friends and Hendo there. The worst thing that could happen is tae have a clueless selkie dressed in a crumpled shirt and ripped jeans when everyone else looks smart and _important,_ ” Andy says, as soon as they reach the hotel.

“Is that what you’re worried about, Andy? That you’re not going to fit in with my friends in Liverpool and everyone’s going to look down on you?”

“This is strange, ken—,” Andy says breathlessly, as he prowls from one end of the hotel room to the other, looking restless. He rolls the sleeves of his shirt up, before pushing them back down again, his tie hanging loose around his neck, opening and closing his fists as he licks his lips anxiously. “I’m actually sweating. And I’m feeling nauseous. And I dinnae ken why!”

Adam stands up immediately and shakes his head. “Andy—,” he begins, shushing the selkie. In this moment, he realizes that Andy is taller than him by an inch or so, although Adam would probably never hear the end of it if he were to admit this. Adam places his hands on Andy’s freckled cheeks and smoothing the hair that has fallen on Andy’s forehead. “Andy, if anyone is supposed to be nervous, it’s me. I’m the one who needs to face Hendo after all this time. Do you what you’ve always done, with Ingsy, with Clyney, with my mum. You’ve always been so confident, countless times before,” Adam says, calming Andy as he brushes the pads of this thumbs over Andy’s cheekbones.

“A’right,” Andy nods, shuddering. “A’right.”

Adam runs his hands downwards and lets them rest on Andy’s chest, tugging slightly at the tie that hangs on Andy’s neck. “Do you need a hand with this?”

“I’m okay,” Andy says, as he attempts to knot the necktie, but his hands shake so much that Adam has to pull them away gently— “Here, lemme do this for you,” he says, aware that Andy’s attention is now solely focused on him. He could feel Andy’s breath against his skin as he helps Andy with the necktie—and it’s awkward, because although he does know how to tie a tie, Adam realizes that he’s never done it from the front, and definitely not for someone else; not even Hendo.

“Turn around,” Adam orders— and Andy does so, docilely, as Adam climbs on the bed – standing at least a head taller than Andy, watching their reflections on the mirror. “I’m going to help you this way,” Adam says, as his arms move around Andy’s neck from behind, his nimble fingers work deftly with twisting and knotting the tie. “You’re taller than me now,” Andy grins as Adam tightens the knot up to Andy’s shirt collar. Adam rests his hands on Andy’s shoulders and gives them a gentle squeeze. They lock gazes in the mirror, but Adam stays silent.

“I feel better now,” Andy whispers.

Adam sighs, before bending slightly and wraps his arms around Andy, his chest firmly pressed against Andy’s back, resting his chin on Andy’s shoulder. “Thank you for doing this for me,” he says into the back-hug, softly against Andy’s ear, before smiling at Andy’s reflection in the mirror.

Andy turns around gently, gazing up at Adam from underneath his eyelashes. He lends a hand to help Adam climb down the bed, and soon they’re standing toe-to-toe, Andy being the slightly taller one, once again. “I’d dae anything if you’d ask,” Andy says.

Adam wants to say, _Kiss me,_ but he’s too much of a coward and no less a fool.

So he doesn’t.

“I 'hink we should head downstairs,” Andy says, looking at his wristwatch. The grave moment is over as soon as it has begun.  

“Yes,” Adam agrees all too readily. “We should.”

 

* * *

 

Hendo is there, sitting two tables away from them with Trent and Milly, while Adam is seated with Andy, Ingsy and Clyney. Adam doesn’t move – he merely registers Hendo’s presence, surprised at how little it affects him now. Andy is beside him, their fingers linked under the table, for what Adam thinks is a show of emotional support. Ingsy has just made a reference to the Red Wedding from _Game of Thrones_ , and Clyney’s referred to Andy as _King in the North,_ him being from Scotland and the most northerly part as well – which earns a roar of laughter from the entire table. Adam doesn’t even know why Andy had been so anxious in the earlier part of the day, not when he carries himself with such charm and wit tonight. He gives Andy a sideways glance and smiles, surprised when Andy returns it and gently brushes the top of Adam’s knuckles with his thumb.

This isn’t even a public display of affection— their hands are still hidden underneath the table, and Adam’s heart thumps in his chest in some sort of a wild Ceilidh that he doesn’t even know the steps to.

When the time comes for Adam to introduce Andy to Mo and Dej, the newly wedded couple ends up pulling Andy and Adam into a four-way bro-hug. “Look after him well,” Dej threatens Andy with a menacing glare, towering over the selkie with his height. Andy stares at Mo, silently pleading for help, when Mo laughs and says that Dejan does that to everyone that dates Adam. “He thinks he’s the big brother, even when Adam’s older than him,” Mo smiles. “Ahh,” Dejan taps on Andy’s shoulder, “You’re good,” he says before winking conspiratorially. “I can tell,” Dejan adds, before getting distracted by the Croatian side of the room, waving at Sime and Luka and the rest of them, as Mo drags him along to greet other guests.

Adam is about to drag Andy to the dance floor when Hendo steps in front of them, appearing out of nowhere.

“Jords,” Adam says, his voice rising crisply above the music.

“Adz,” Hendo replies. “You look good.”

Adam sighs. There’s no doubt that Hendo looks good, too. Too good, in fact, and it reminds him how he’s been swept off his feet when he first laid eyes on the man, beautiful in his golden beauty and strength and power – the antithesis of everything Adam is, of everything _Andy_ is. “You look good, too,” Adam says, before gripping Andy’s hand tighter.

“So you’re Jordan,” Andy chips in, eyes lighting up, dialing his charm-offensive to eleven. “Ingsy talks a lot about you,” he grins widely, completely throwing off any aggressive vibes that Hendo’s trying to pull off.

Hendo gives a look to Adam which says, ‘who’s this?’ – and Adam’s spent enough time with Hendo to read him well, before he introduces Andy to Hendo. “This is Andy, he’s from Sule Skerry.”

“Where’s that?” Hendo asks.

“Scotland,” Andy smiles cryptically.

Hendo is about to ask more questions when Milly and Trent join them, and the tension is broken by Milly’s joke about finding out that there’s someone here that’s actually from ‘beyond the wall’. Cue all the _Game of Thrones_ references that Hendo doesn’t really get, because he hasn’t watched it— and Adam is fascinated by the way Andy easily gels in with Trent and Milly. It isn’t until later that Milly finally asks how Adam and Andy met.

“Ye folk might not believe me, but—he saved my life,” Andy says. “I was swimming along the cove and I nearly drowned, and then Adam saved me.”

“A few weeks later I drowned and Andy saved my life, too,” Adam interjects. Half lies, half truth. He’s giving them what they want to hear, and the looks on Hendo, Milly and Trent’s faces are _absolutely_ epic.  

“Wow,” Trent says. “Wooooow.”

“How come you’ve never told us this?” Milly asks, as Hendo continues to stare daggers at Andy. The selkie barely manages to hold in a chuckle, and Adam has to stomp on his foot underneath the table to make him stop.

“Because I know you guys would freak out,” Adam replies.

“It was like…fate. I’ve promised mysel' tha' I would repay him, so I did,” Andy says. “I needed a place tae stay anyway because I’ve just—recently _moved,_ ” he adds – another half-truth, “—and Adam was kind enough to let me stay wi' him. And it just…kickstarted from there, really,” Andy says. “He’s an alright lad,” he smiles at Hendo, before sparing a brief glance at Adam, who couldn't quite meet his gaze.

“You’ll be alright,” Andy says, and squeezes his hand gently. 

Adam intends to believe him.

 

* * *

 

A few drinks later, Adam finds himself sitting outside the steps of the Hilton, breathing in the warm midsummer’s night air. Andy’s held up inside the grand ballroom, showing the guests how to do a Highland Dance. Adam’s managed to stay for the first ten minutes, before he realizes how much his friends love Andy, and vice versa. Even Hendo – despite his constant frown – cheers at the jokes that Andy’s cracked on the spot – and Adam’s laughed too, not because he’s heard Andy’s punchline before, but because of how _happy_ Andy looks.

_Radiant._

The laugh turns bitter, then, when Adam is reminded that he is just another passer-by in Andy’s long _, long_ life, swarming his space; tiny and unimportant. He doesn’t belong here, where Andy is the sun, the centre of the universe – and Adam is a dwarf star, hovering at the peripheries.

It was the same feeling he had when he was with Hendo, only this is ten thousand times worse. What is a human’s worth to an elegant creature such as a selkie?

“Adz,” he hears someone call out behind him.

_Hendo._

“Hey,” Adam replies, barely budging from his spot as Hendo sits next to him.

“You know,” Hendo says, “I came here thinking I’d ask you to come back.”

Adam shakes his head and looks at the crowd dispersing through the concrete path of Thomas Steers Way, the many flags of Liverpool One billowing gently across from where he sits. “I’ve moved on, Jords. You have your life and I have mine,” he says. “I think I’m happy where I am right now.”

Hendo sighs. “He’s a nice guy. I really tried to hate him, but I can’t.”

“Who— _oh_ ,” Adam chuckles, “Andy.”

“I thought I was going to punch him when I saw him next to you, pick a fight, but he’s genuinely a good man. I can’t fault him.”

Adam tries to suppress the smile that’s threatening to form on his lips, but he fails miserably. “He _is_ ,” Adam agrees thoughtfully. “He’s _such_ a find.”

Hendo is about to say something else, before another voice rises from behind them, hesitant and uncertain. “I’ve been lookin' for ye. Am I interrupting something—because I can— _leave?_ ”  

Adam doesn’t even have to turn around to know whose inflection it belongs to.

“No, Andy,” Adam stands up and brushes the top of his knees. “I was just about to look for you, too,” he says, before tilting his head respectfully at the man he once loved. “Goodbye, Hendo.”

“I wish you all the happiness in the world, Adam,” Hendo says, civil and courteous.

“You too, Jordan,” Adam says. “You too.”

 

* * *

 

Two hours later, Adam finds himself walking by the Albert Dock, with Andy by his side and the Mersey on the other.

“Are ye a'right?” Andy asks, fidgeting with the sleeves of his suit.

“Yep.”

“He’s a nice lad,” Andy says, referring to Hendo, after several beats of silence. Adam couldn't help but reflect on the stilted nature of this conversation, awkward and uncomfortable, like a tiny itch that he couldn't quite scratch. He thinks Andy is sulking beside him, but he isn't quite sure. “Funny,” Adam smirks, “—Hendo said the same thing about you. Maybe I should pair you up with him instead.”

“Nah,” Andy shakes his head and flashes his trademark grin, breaking the taut tension in their atmosphere. “I’m good here. With you.”

Adam falls silent at Andy’s words, before he is reminded of a male-selkie’s well-documented charms, and curses himself for falling into the trap even when he’s been given enough warning about it, anyway.

“I’ve never been tae Liverpool before,” Andy says, as he loosens his tie and unbuttons his top collar, staring at the city lights across the Mersey. “I’ve swam past it, but I’ve never really swam in the Mersey. Can ye believe that?”

Adam nods distractedly, as he watches the dark waves of the Mersey flow by in the corner of his eyes. Something grips him all of a sudden, and the words leave his lips before he could stop himself. “Andy, what are we doing?” he asks. 

The question clearly catches Andy off-guard, as his footsteps suddenly come to a halt. “We’re walking…by the Mersey?”

“No—,” Adam closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, “—I _know_ that. What are we _doing?_ Why are we here, why are _you_ here? With me? Why did you stay?”

Andy’s mouth goes agape, like a fish, as he struggles to verbalize his thoughts. “Where's all this coming from?” he asks, eyes widening in surprise and confusion.

“You’ve never answered me why you’ve decided to stay on land, or how long you’re planning to stay here, Andy,” Adam says, calmly and gently-- in order to calm himself down, too. “I just thought I needed some answers.”

Andy takes a sharp inhale of breath, before he sighs and shrugs. “You wouldnae believe me if I told ye.”

“Try me,” Adam challenges him, surprised by the own vehemence in his voice.

“I’m here 'cause I’ve sworn tae protect ye.”

“What?”

“I need tae tell ye something,” Andy says, before taking one step closer towards Adam, head-to-head, toe-to-toe. He is as close to Adam now as he was this morning, and it unnerves Adam. “The real reason why I hung about Poole Bay and Hengistbury Head?” Andy growls, his eyes glinting in the moonlight, “—it was yer grandda.”

Adam is taken aback. “You were in love with my granddad?”

"What?” Andy shrieks. “Nah, nah—what? No!” he throws back his head in a hearty laughter, nearly doubling himself onto the ground. “No, it’s no' that,” he says, once he’s caught his breath again, a smile has now returned on his lips. “Remember when I told ye about our kin and pledge tae protect the seal king’s descendants? They have been independent for---hundreds of years. But I still keep an eye on them, from time tae time. And d'ye remember yer great grandmother—yer grandda’s mother— the one that your mum talked about the other day, when she visited us?”

Adam nods, remembering the tale – his great-grandmother who drowned off the coast, and met his great-grandfather, and fell in love. In a surging panic, Adam realizes where this story is going.

“She was the seal king’s daughter. I’ve been keeping track of yer grandda, but then I’ve lost track of your father, or his descendants. I've lost track of you, until you came back, of course,” Andy says. “Technically, you’re a seal prince, of selkie blood. The Grey Selkie of Sule Skerry himself.”

“This is a prank.”

“No, I swear tae ye on my sealskin it’s no',” Andy pleads. “I’d give my sealskin tae ye now, if you’d believe me.”

Adam has heard enough. “Stop, Andy,” he raises a hand, and pushes Andy away. “Stop.”

And Andy does just that— because Adam has asked it of him.

Because he's asked it of him. 

_Fuck._

“You’re telling the truth, aren’t you?” Adam asks, shakily, like a leaf in the wind.

“Aye,” Andy says. Softly.

“You’d do anything I’d ask you to, won’t you?”

“Aye.”

Adam gives this some thought, before steeling himself to ask for one thing, and one thing only. 

“Come closer to me,” Adam asks, firmly. 

Andy bides his time, walking over slowly towards Adam and backs him against the rail by the pier. There is no thunderstorm tonight, and the waters are calm, but they only serve to betray the whirlwind that’s brewing inside Adam’s heart. Andy stands between Adam’s knees, one hand at Adam’s back and the other caressing the shell of Adam’s ear. From this point, they are almost at the same eye-level.

But Andy is _scared._

Adam knows this, because Andy doesn’t dare to take the next step. He breathes in, out; watches Adam like a hawk waiting on its prey. But he couldn’t move, frozen until Adam gives him the permission to do so. His fingers run up and down Adam’s spine, the other trails down Adam’s long, pale column of throat.

In the end, Adam is the one who makes the first move.

He tugs at Andy’s tie, causing the selkie to let out a soft yelp, drawing Andy closer towards him. He is reinventing the tale— _Adam_ is the male-selkie seducing Andy now, instead of the other way around. He relishes this newfound power that sings in his blood, as he gazes into Andy’s dark eyes. And then, he presses his lips against Andy’s – square and chaste, for just a mere second, before pulling away with a soft kiss sound. “Wake me up from this dream,” he whispers, before Andy silences him with a deeper kiss, this time coaxing his lips open and traces Adam’s bottom lip with his tongue.

It’s a messy kiss, openmouthed and wanton, and at one point someone lets out a deep sigh of yearning; before Andy grows bolder. He slides a hand under Adam’s shirt, his calloused palm against the soft skin of Adam’s back. They’re in public, and anyone could catch them like this, but Adam doesn’t care. Andy moves his hand to Adam’s chest, and thumbs at one nipple, pawing at his pectorals, squeezing it the way one would with a woman’s breast. Adam groans—and nearly kicks Andy at the surprise, but it’s a welcome surprise.

Andy pulls away, his lips swollen and bruised and glistening with saliva – and this is the most unruly and debauched Andy has ever been, Adam thinks— his glazed, wide-eyed innocence replaced by a current of pure wickedness and mischief. Andy sucks slightly at the pad of Adam’s thumb— the one he’s cut when he was fixing his grandda’s boat— which had led to Adam crying the seven tears needed to call Andy ashore, the scar already healed and invisible.

And now they’re here.

“I guarantee ye tha' this isnae a dream,” Andy says, before kissing Adam again— gentler, deeper.

 _Sweeter_.

 

* * *

 

Later, Andy will tell him that he first admires Adam for his bravery, for saving his life when he doesn’t need to. He admires Adam’s resilience and independence. “But then, I begin to love your little quirks, when you get flustered, when you bite your bottom lip and stare blankly at me when you’re confused. I like you— I’ve always liked you from the start, even before I knew who you really were, when you patted my head and said hello to me, when you fed me fish when you absolutely have no reason to do so,” Andy says. “But I think— I realize that I’m in love with you when I saw you in the library, poring over all those books about selkies— _no,_ when you were delighted that you’ve heard about Sule Skerry when I brought it up,” he says, with a grin. “I started off wanting to repay you for what you’ve done for me. I started off wanting to serve you because you’re the selkie prince of Sule Skerry. But then I found out that the more time I spend with you, the more I want to stay here with you – I wish you’d ask to me to stay. But I was worried, because I know what the folk-tales say about us male-selkies— I don’t want you to think that I’m taking advantage of you.”

“What a pair we make,” Adam says. “And here I was worried that you’d think I would be selfish if I were to ask you to stay, because of all the tales about humans who steal sealskins to keep you on land.” Adam purses his lips and smiles, before taking Andy’s calloused, cold hands in his warm ones. Andy spreads his hand and widens the spaces between his fingers, so that Adam’s fingers and his intertwine, and clasps them together. “We wouldn’t be able to do this, if we were seals,” Adam says randomly, before laughing quietly at the little joke.

Andy lets out a low chuckle, before reminiscing about the first time they met. “I love seeing you that day, when I saw you in the kitchen, panicking that some random stranger has broken into your home, and the fact that you recognized me anyway. I love seeing you that day when you asked me if I would love peach tarts, and the kitchen smells of freshly baked pastry, and there were flour dust on your hair,” Andy says. “Whenever I’m with you, I’m at peace.”

 _Me too,_ Adam thinks.

_Whenever I'm with you, I'm at peace, too._

 

* * *

 

There used to be an ache in Adam’s heart that he cannot soothe.

As they sail across the seas, all the way to Sule Skerry, in his grandad’s little boat, Adam realizes that he’s okay now.

With the ocean around and the waves beneath him, Adam knows that he’ll be okay. It’s in his blood— it’s in his bones.

The tide is calling him home.

 

* * *

 

fin

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spotify playlist [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/incendiarywit/playlist/1k1z4ffICgJQl0mlc8aYGB?si=LTuJOc_zQPqIN6eI1MiEIw)
> 
> The actual tale of The Grey Selkie of Sule Skerry [here](http://www.orkneyjar.com/folklore/selkiefolk/sulesk.htm)
> 
> I apologize if the fic seems rushed. I had to get it out by this Easter weekend, because this is me taking a (?semi) hiatus. It's been a fun ride, guys. I hope that Liverpool will do well in both the UCL and EPL -- and I wish Adam all the best, no matter where he goes next season. I can't believe the response I got for this fic though, given that it's a Robbollana fic and I think no one else had written anything in the tag? 
> 
> I love all of you.


End file.
